Chapter 111: Shen Que Faints, Luo Xing Reviews the Chat History

Gu Shiyan gave a faint smile, slipping his arm around Xu Yuxiao’s shoulders. “Feeling itchy, are you? Want to try and take charge?”

Xu Yuxiao clammed up instantly.

Luo Xing nearly laughed at Gu Shiyan’s words but managed to hold it in.

It was Qi Changbai who actually burst out, his laughter breaking the stifling gloom that had weighed down the room.

“Men who say things like that,” Qi Changbai scoffed, “usually don’t have any real ability themselves, so they can only imagine women as dependent on men, just to show off their own supposed superiority. Tsk, tsk.”

Xu Yuxiao opened his mouth to retort, but before he could speak, someone abruptly collapsed onto him.

“Shen Que!”

Luo Xing’s voice trembled in fright as she saw the person fall atop Xu Yuxiao.

Gu Shiyan was beside them, helping to lift the fallen man, but Shen Que kept his eyes closed, unresponsive.

Xu Yuxiao was shaking with fear. “Don’t blame me—I didn’t even move! He just fell over by himself.”

Xu Yan had already called for an ambulance.

They hurried down the elevator.

Only two were allowed to accompany Shen Que in the ambulance. Luo Xing immediately stepped forward. “I’ll go.”

No sooner had she spoken than Gu Shiyan went with her.

“You all head back. I’ll contact you by phone,” Gu Shiyan said, casting a glance at Xu Yuxiao but saying nothing more.

Xu Yuxiao hadn’t expected that his casual, crude remark would land him with a sickly guy collapsing on top of him.

It could happen anytime, anywhere.

...

“Attorney Huo, I suppose you know why I’ve come looking for you this time...” Gu Ming slid a check across the table. “Just take a look. Fifty million—it’s yours.”

The man across from him was dressed in a black-and-white suit, his slicked-back hair revealing his entire forehead, his gaze as sharp as a blade. “Mr. Gu, I made it very clear last time: what’s meant to be made public will be, and as for the will that the old man doesn’t wish to announce—even if you tied me up, I wouldn’t know its contents.”

“I’ll double it,” Gu Ming said, his expression indifferent but his ambition barely concealed in his eyes.

“Mr. Gu, please respect my profession.” Attorney Huo pushed the check back, picked up his briefcase, and stood to leave.

“Attorney Huo, you’d better think carefully.”

Gu Ming had already tried probing Song, the old man’s personal assistant, but even the person closest to the old man knew nothing of the other will—only this lawyer did.

Unfortunately, the lawyer had no family, no attachments, leaving Gu Ming frustrated—he couldn’t find a way in.

Huo Xingzhou paused. “Mr. Gu, what the old man has left you all is more than enough to support you for a lifetime.”

The implication was clear: don’t be too greedy.

A cold laugh rumbled in Gu Ming’s throat.

When a man knows he could have more, what he already possesses begins to seem insignificant.

“Attorney Huo, the old man supported you as you grew up, and you’ve been his private lawyer for decades. Surely you understand—in this world, if you’re not at the top, you’ll spend your life serving others, scraping by.”

Gu Ming stood, slipping his business card into Huo Xingzhou’s pocket. “Are you really content to stay at this level forever? If you’re willing, so many things could become easy. Think it over—there’s no rush to answer me.”

He gave Huo’s shoulder a light pat and a brief, mocking chuckle.

Just as he always had, looking down on Huo Xingzhou, the sponsored orphan who came to the Gu family.

Huo took out the card, studying it closely.

Generations of privilege had bred nothing but insatiable appetite—once grown, it was hard to rein in.

He watched Gu Ming’s retreating figure, speaking on the phone as a bodyguard opened the car door for him.

“Was it you?” Gu Ming asked, sliding into the backseat and leaning his head against the cushion, eyes closed.

A slightly nervous voice came from the other end. “Don’t worry, I had someone else do it. Even if Gu Shiyan investigates, he can’t trace it to me.”

Gu Ming slowly opened his eyes, sharp enough to pierce the screen. He gazed at the call interface and spoke softly, “You and your mother stay in New York. I’ll have someone send more money over this month.”

“Dad…”

The voice tried to say more, but Gu Ming had already hung up.

“To the hospital,” he ordered.

...

“If he doesn’t wake in three days, your competition is in jeopardy...” Professor Wen said, gazing at the man lying in the hospital bed.

Luo Xing sighed quietly, looking at the same prone figure.

The doctor said it was a fainting spell brought on by excessive anxiety—a physiological response, the body’s self-protection.

“What does he have to be anxious about?” Qi Changbai frowned in thought, puzzled. “He never seemed that way before. Maybe it’s just nerves before the competition?”

Luo Xing went to the bed and searched Shen Que’s pockets for his phone.

The password was still the same as before. Luo Xing keyed it in and unlocked it easily.

“You two really are childhood friends—he even shares his phone password with you,” Qi Changbai remarked, clicking his tongue.

Xu Yan stole a glance at Gu Shiyan, then pulled Qi Changbai back, whispering in his ear, “You should hold your tongue. If Gu Shiyan faints too, we might as well skip the competition and just go home for the New Year.”

“I can hear you,” came a soft voice from nearby.

Xu Yan looked at Gu Shiyan. “Then pretend you didn’t.”

“...”

“Hey, Luo Xing, you can’t just go through someone else’s messages!” Qi Changbai protested as he saw Luo Xing opening Shen Que’s WeChat, moving to stop her.

Luo Xing stepped back. “Stay here and watch him. I need some air.”

Gu Shiyan followed her out, but Luo Xing shot him a look. “Don’t follow me.”

She closed the door to the ward and walked to the window at the end of the corridor.

A biting wind swept by as she stood at the window, scrolling through Shen Que’s message history until her fingers were red from the cold.

[“I asked your counselor—you’re on a full scholarship and you’ve won so many awards. Where did all the money your mother gave you go?”]

[“I’m telling you now, you’re spending that woman’s money, and you’ll have to pay it back someday. Don’t use it if you can avoid it.”]

[“Hasn’t the Luo family always supported you? Why have they stopped?”]

[“Aren’t you close with their daughter? Put in a good word for yourself. Don’t be so stiff all the time—girls these days like sweet talkers.”]

[“If you could win over their daughter, you wouldn’t have to work so hard.”]

[“Son, send Dad some money. I’ve run into some trouble lately.”]

[“You haven’t spent your mother’s money, have you? I know you wouldn’t. Just send it to Dad so I can get by for now.”]

Luo Xing’s fingers were numb with cold, barely able to move the screen.

She crouched down, trying to steady herself.

Shen Que, still a student, could hardly take care of himself, yet his father was asking him for money.

She scrolled down—a long string of transfer records.

[“I’ve sent you all the money she gave me. I have nothing left.”]

[“Haven’t you made any useful friends? If that brainless money machine from the Luo family knew you needed help, you think she wouldn’t give it to you?”]

[“Don’t come to me. I have no obligation to give you money—you didn’t support me.”]

[“You’re my son. Isn’t it only right for a son to support his father? You have money to go to the US, but not to support your dad?”]

[“I’m going for a competition. The school paid for it.”]

[“Will there be prize money?”]

[“No.”]

[“Then what’s the point? Instead of wasting money on useless studies, you should start working early. By the time your peers graduate, you’d already be established.”]

Luo Xing’s gaze lingered on the last message from Shen Runji, sent just after they’d sat through three or four consecutive hours of classes.

Shen Que was working hard, striving to improve himself.

But Shen Runji only mocked him, using his own failed life as a lesson.